


Parental Sentiments

by Rainah (RainahFiclets)



Series: A Part For You Too [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Multi, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah
Summary: John, Eliza, and Alex have set up their household. Kids, jobs, lives. No one gives a thought to the daughter John fathered in high school, far away in London.Until Martha Manning passes suddenly, and Frances is sent to the father she's never even met





	Parental Sentiments

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic that got a little out of control. I've been writing this on and off for months. Thank you always to Oaxara, my beta.
> 
> AGES  
> Alex - 33  
> John - 31  
> Eliza - 29  
> Frances - 13  
> Philip - 8  
> Angie - 5  
> AJ - 3  
> James - 8 months

_“Eliza?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I have something to tell you.”_

_“Oh dear, this is bad isn’t it?” Eliza, frowns uncertainly as he lead her over to the couch. Alex is in class, his fourth year seminar. “Is Alex okay?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine!” John rushes to reassure her. “It’s nothing like that.”_

_“Is your father-”_

_“No no.” She’s not going to guess. He’s going to have to tell her. "I said before, that I was in the closet in high school." John waits until she nods, to say she's following along. "And when I was there, I dated women. Sort of. It never got past the handholding stage really, except for the one party after finals-" he's babbling._

_Eliza grins, and the sight of it cuts him off. "Don't tell me, you've got a secret love-child and your former girlfriend is suing you for everything you're worth?"_

_"...She's not suing me."_

_"Oh." Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she regains control of her senses. "You have..."_

_"A daughter, yes. She lives in England, I pay an extraordinary amount of child support every month" - not that he begrudged Martha that, not like he would refuse her anything after all that happened - "and she's very well taken care of. Other than that, she's not a part of my life."_

_"Oh," Eliza says again. John can see the wheels turning in her mind. "Don't you want to.... visit her?"_

_He forces a smile. "I don't even think she'd want me to. Her life is there, and it's a good life. What would I even do with her? Barbecue and wear ties?" That image of John, with his long hair and tattoos and earring, is ludicrous enough that Eliza gives a real laugh. John is relieved. "I only needed to tell you because when Alex found out he got the wrong idea entirely. I didn't run out on them. It's just.... easier this way."_

_RE: Frances Laurens_  
_TO: John.Laurens@columbia.cmail.com_  
_FROM: MsMManning@hotmail.com_

_[Four Attachments]_  
_Tuition for the fall is due next week, I’ve attached the documents. And some pictures of her and the cat. While I am glad she is past the age where she wanted to name everything “Spot”, I’m not sure how she got to naming it Raul._  
_yrs,_  
_Martha_

_RE: Frances Laurens_  
_TO: MsMManning@hotmail.com_  
_FROM: John.Laurens@Columbia.cmail.com_

_Thanks. Frances and Raul look great. I’m missing a document - form A4? If you could sent that it would be great._

_J Laurens_

_RE: Frances Laurens_  
_TO: MsMManning@hotmail.com_  
_FROM: John.Laurens@Columbia.cmail.com_

_Whenever you have time, I need the form_

_Laurens_

_RE: Frances Laurens_  
_TO: MsMManning@hotmail.com_  
_FROM: John.Laurens@Columbia.cmail.com_

_Martha?_

_**The London Gazette Breaking News: Three dead in bus crash**  
Local police are investigating a bus crash that left three dead in the early hours of Tuesday morning. A bus driver identified as Miles Richardson swerved to avoid a cat and hit incoming traffic, dying instantly._

_Also deceased are a woman, Martha Manning, and a man identified as her boyfriend Frank Ajjikuttira. Manning is survived by her daughter, Frances….  
_

  


John always hated airports. They were always so bare, so clean, so impersonal. They weren’t built for people, not really. They were built for coming or going, and offered very little for people who were doing neither.

Beside him, Alex slipped a hand in his. “It’s going to be fine,” he reminded John.

John hated airports.

On the screen above them the little icons indicating flight A37 from London to New York changed from arriving to arrived. John sucked in a breath.

“It’s going to be fine,” Alex repeated. “She’s going to love you. Who wouldn’t? And you’re great with the kids.”

“She’s older though,” John pointed out. A full five years older than Philip, conceived in a haze of drunken delusion as he was graduating high school. Thirteen now. What did thirteen year olds even do? He should have researched it. Should have picked up a book. Should have brought her a present, a book or a dress or something. Should have done something before driving over here to pick up the daughter he didn’t even know, who was surely still grieving her mother’s death. 

Alex’s hand suddenly tightened its grip, and John looked up in time to see Frances Laurens descend the stairs. She pulled two large suitcases behind her, the current sum of all the worldly possessions.

He walked towards her in a haze, Alex following along. Then he stopped. Let her take the last few steps and look him over.

He couldn’t possibly have expected her to hug him. But a smile, surely. Something other than a once-over and a short “You’re my father then?” in a light accent.

“Yeah.” He had the sudden urge to shake her hand, if she wasn’t going to initiate any other sort of contact. God, don’t do that.

Frances glanced over to Alex, giving him the same treatment. Her eyes lingered a moment on their joined hands. “Mom didn’t say you had a boyfriend.”

“Partner,” Alex clarified. “And it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” she echoed doubtfully, before shrugging. “Alright. Take me to your house.” 

And that was that. They drove home in silence. Even Alex, who had been full of chatter on the way there, had fallen uncharacteristically quiet.

“Honey, I’m home!” Alex called when he burst in the door.

John groaned. He should have explained Eliza while they were in the car, he really should have.

Eliza came down the stairs, beautiful and composed even with her arms filled with action figures. “The Justice League had some fun upstairs, and Philip fell asleep before I could get him to put them away.” She shook her head, smiling. “He’s getting far too spoiled. We keep letting him take a nap instead of cleaning.”

“Best of wives and best of women.” Alex leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Frances’ eyes went wide.

“Not your wife, Hamilton.” She cut off his sarcastic “Noted, Ms Schuyler” to focus on the pair in the doorway. "You must be Frances. We're so happy to have you with us."

Frances looked from Eliza, to Alex, to John, and then back to Eliza. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, British accent coming out strong, "but.... who are you?"

"Frances, this is Eliza Schuyler." John supplied, stepping in front of Alex. "She's Alex and my girlfriend."

She turned on him, voice flat. "Your girlfriend."

"Yeah."

"And that's your boyfriend"

"Yes. We're all dating each other. Like any other relationship, but with three people."

"Mom said you were gay."

John suppressed a sigh. He always hates this part of the explanations. Poly relationships were hard for people to swallow already. Poly relationships that involve incompatible orientations? Even harder. "I am gay."

"But you're in a relationship with a woman-"

"And a man. Any further details are between Eliza, Alex, and I."

She looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and headed towards the kitchen. "Whatever. Show me my room."

"It's upstairs." Eliza stepped forward, ever the gracious hostess. 

Alex grinned. He was very proud of the successive room shuffling, which had been the product of countless arguments, several attempts at bribery, and two speeches while standing on top of the kitchen table. "We moved Philip and Angie in together, despite their complaints. And James still sleeps in our room, though perhaps when you get settled in you might like to share with Angie?"

Frances looked back at John, appalled. "How many people are you dating?!?"

"No, ah," he floundered, helpless, looking over to Eliza to rescue him and explain who they were. It came too late.

"Dad?" Philip, rubbing his eyes, climbed down the stairs to them. "Pops, Mom. Who's this?" John was painfully aware of every dark curl on Philip's head, every freckle on his skin. While Frances had her mother's nose, her mother's eyes, Philip was very obviously an exact copy of his father.

"You have children with them." If Frances' voice was flat before, now it was crushing. "Of course you do. I’m going to bed."

"Third door on the right!" Alex called after her. "Breakfast is at eight!"

 

_  
“She’s fine, Alex. It’s a boarding school. It’s not like I’m sending her to an orphanage.”_

_“She’s just lost her mom, she needs someone-”_

_“And it’s not going to be me. You want to bring her across the ocean and dump her in the middle of this?” John waves a hand around the room. Their living room looks like a tornado has torn through it, toys and games everywhere. Hammie’s laying on the sofa, shedding everywhere and slobbering over a ball. In the other room, they can still hear the faint sounds of Theo, Philip, and Angie tossing things around as they wage war over a make believe princess._

_Alex folds his arms. “She needs to be with her family.”_

_“Her mother’s dead.” And that was all the family she had. “Look, the boarding school I’ve found is very highly rated, with the most-”_

_He’s cut off by Alex’s undignified snort. “Boarding school is where rich parents drop their kids when they don’t care about them anymore.”_

_John stares. Waits for him to realize what he said._

_It only takes a minute. “God, John, I didn’t mean it like that, your dad-”_

_“Loves me.” John says. It’s true. He does. Even if their relationship isn’t the best, even if John dreads the monthly phone call they exchange. He tries his best. It’s not Henry’s fault John isn’t the son he wanted._

_“Kids need actual parents, not ones who-”_

_“Left?” As soon as it’s out of his mouth he can’t believe he’s said it. If bringing up John’s father is dangerous territory, bringing up Alex’s is suicide._

_The blow strikes true. Alex’s eyes go wide, then settle into something hard. “Get out of my house.”_

_“But-” It’s their house, the deed is actually in Eliza’s name, Alex can’t order him anywhere._

_“Just get out,” Alex snaps, voice tight. “I need some space right now.”_

_John goes, but as he pulls on his shoes he hears Alex’s shouting after him._

_“He had to leave us! He was in debt, he was trying to protect us. He would have come back if he could. He will when he can. He loves us!”_

  


Breakfast the next morning was awkward. Frances, her eyes red-rimmed, sat at the front of the table. John sat across from her, the gap between them an excellent metaphor. He couldn’t help but look at her, taking in every inch of his eldest daughter. Martha’s blue eyes, with black eyeliner. The same tan skin that John and Philip and Angie had, though hers was much more even. John wondered if she didn’t have his freckles or if she covered them up - somehow he couldn’t bring any of the photos Martha had sent him to mind. He looked away.

Alex had already gone to work, but Eliza was still trying to cajole AJ into eating his breakfast before taking the other two children to school.

"You're going to be late," John observed, taking the bowl of dry cereal from her and nudging her up.

"I know, I know, I'm going." She grabbed two bags by the door and then turned in a circle. "Have you seen my bag of math manipulatives?"

"Front closet. You're going to make the kids late."

"You know the kids don't care." She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, their hands ever so briefly resting on top of one another. Then, with a loud "Philip! Angie! Time for school!" she hustled the kids out the door.

There was a long, awkward pause as John and Frances regarded each other. AJ, not yet three, was balanced on John's knee and James babbled from the highchair.

"Do you work from home, then?" Frances asked abruptly.

"In a sense." John fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. "The kids are a full time job."

"So you don't work?"

He tried to laugh, he really did. "You sound like my father."

"Well, that's your fault isn't it?" Her small arms were folded, her glare unmistakeable.

"Right. Well, I stay home with the kids, Eliza works at a nonprofit to bring literacy to marginalized kids- kids who've been having a hard time," he explained for Frances' benefit, "and Alex works as a defense lawyer."

"Weird," she muttered, picking at her cereal, then said louder, "Mom said you had a very important job."

Honestly, he has no idea where Martha got _that _. "I was in school for awhile, law school. That may have been what she was referring to." Though he had lasted less than a year in law school, and Frances would have been a toddler.__

__"She said that's why you would never visit us." Again, that accusing stare._ _

__John ran a hand through his curls, pulling them out of their tie. "Frances, I- Look. It would have been time consuming, and made everything complicated. Would you really have _wanted_ me to show up and visit like that?"_ _

__They looked at each other for a long moment. Frances was the first to break eye contact, stabbing a spoon into her bowl. "No," she said with finality. "I wouldn’t."_ _

__

_  
"Sir? I need to talk to you about something?"_

_"For God's sake John, don't turn statements into questions. Say what you mean."_

_"Yes, sir." John's palm is sweating as he grips the phone. Can his father tell how nervous he is? "I have something to tell you."_

_"The money's not run out again, has it?"_

_"No, Sir. I, ah-" Before his father can reprimand his hesitancy, John blurts it out. "Martha Manning is pregnant."_

_"Your prom date?" He can hear thunder gathering in Henry's words. "John, are you telling me..."_

_"It's mine." John nods, even though his father can't see it. "The baby. Is mine. I broke up with her though, I'm not dating her any more."_

_There's a long silence. John can practically hear Henry thinking it over. Finally he says, "John, the Mannings are a fine family, very well connected. I know you're young, but this could be a blessing from God-"_

_"I don't want to marry her," John says. This, he has to be firm on. "I don't want to marry her. Or anyone. Sleeping with her just made it clear, sir, I'm gay."_

_Two beats of silence, this time far heavier. Henry snaps, "I don't know why you're telling me all this then. If you have it all figured out, if you no longer need your father's support-"_

_"No!" John looks at the phone in horror. "No, that's the opposite, I'm calling because- I don't know what to do. Martha says she wants to keep the baby. I have no idea what I'm doing, what I'm going to do, I'm not ready to be a father."_

_"First things first," Henry says firmly. "This baby. If you are firm on your decision not to marry Martha Manning -and you are young, your mind's full of all kinds of flights of fancy- then we will deal with this as a family. I will have you booked on the first flight back to South Carolina."_

_"Yes, sir." John closes his eyes in relief. After all the worry and stress of the past few days, this is what he needs. Someone to take charge and fix things._

_"Once we've got you home, I will arrange to speak to Martha. She's a sensible girl, I'm sure, she'll listen to reason..."_

__

__What does one do with a thirteen year old, a toddler, and a baby? He didn't think Frances wanted to go to the park, or the swimming pool, and those are his two usual options gone._ _

__At a loss, he decided to fall back on the practical. They had to get Frances enrolled in school._ _

__“This is where Philip and Angie go,” he explained, pulling into the driveway. “It’s private, and they have some very good programs.” And the wide number of grades allowed them to carpool, which was also important._ _

__“Fine.” Frances was staring out the window, unenthused. She had been very unimpressed with how long it took John to go anywhere - with a toddler and a baby in tow, he wasn’t about to go anywhere without a packed diaper bag, a carrier, the car seat in place, and enough snacks and juice to keep everyone quiet._ _

__He’d already apologized, knowing it must be very different than what she was used to in Britain. She’d ignored him._ _

__“Alright. Time to disembark.” He helped AJ take off his seatbelt, then unbuckled the baby. James gurgled happily as he was lifted into John’s arms, AJ clutching tightly to one hand. The diaper bag was slung over one shoulder._ _

__Frances made a small sound of dismay. “You look like a bad American comedy. _Diaper Dad_.”_ _

__John shrugged. This was his life, he had made peace with it. “Better to be prepared. I know Eliza was talking about the potential of buying a bus, if we have any more children. One of those small ones, you know, so we don’t have to take separate cars when we go somewhere together.”_ _

__Frances gave him a single, disbelieving look. She shuddered with utmost delicacy before walking into the building._ _

__John scrambled to keep up, pulling AJ along until they reached the office. “Hello! I’m here to register my daughter for school.”_ _

__The secretary raised an eyebrow. “Another one?”_ _

__He flushed. “No, ah-”_ _

__“I’m thirteen, ma’am.” Frances stepped forward. “And I’ve recently moved here.”_ _

__“Oh! Thirteen. That would put you in grade-”_ _

__“Grade eight,” Frances finished for her, and John was grateful. He hadn’t been entirely sure what grade she was in._ _

__“Right.” She clicked her mouse, then handed John several forms. “I’ll need all of these back as soon as you can. It’s just proof of address, relationship, age. But I can get us started today. Child’s full name?”_ _

__“Frances Laurens,” John said._ _

__Frances shot him a glare. “Frances Eleanor Manning,” she enunciated clearly for the secretary._ _

__“You don't use my name?” More than anything else, any cold reception or rejection, that hurt. She didn’t even want his name, the one thing he _had_ given her._ _

__“No. No thank you. My name is Frances Eleanor Manning, and I’m not changing it just because you agreed to take me in as a last resort!”_ _

__“Frances-” John hesitated, putting baby James down carefully into his carrier. “I am your father-”_ _

__“No you’re not!” She hurled back, tears in her eyes. “You’re not! You don’t _care_ , you never cared, I’m just in the way of you having happily ever after with your _real_ family. I wish I’d never been born!” She stomped one foot as the tears spilled over. “And I bet you wish too, then I wouldn’t be here and ruining your life.”_ _

__“Frances…” John was at a loss._ _

__She folded her arms. “I wish I was with mom,” Frances spat defiantly. “I do. I wish I was with mom and you didn’t have to deal with me.”_ _

__The secretary looked from one to the other. “I think I’ll leave you two to it then…” she murmured. “Take the paperwork with you and please feel free to come back when it’s completed.”_ _

__John took the papers from her, not breaking eye contact with his daughter. She was breathing heavily, tears pouring down her cheeks, but the minute he reached for her she ran out the door._ _

__“Thank you,” he said to the secretary, then pulled out his phone.  
____

_To: Alex_  
_can u come home early tnight?_

_To: John_  
_Yeah_  
_Everything ok?_

_To: Alex_  
_no_

_To: Eliza_  
_911_  
_She hates me_

_To: John_  
_We’ll be there. Hold steady_  


__The drive home was silent. Even AJ and James seemed to have caught on, pensively staring at the windows instead of chattering. Frances refused to even look at him. The moment he was parked she ran into the house._ _

__“What am I going to do?” John asked James, unbuckling him from the car seat. “What am I going to _do_?”_ _

__“Dadada,” AJ offered helpfully. “Up!”_ _

__

_In his dreams it's not Jemmy falling from the tree, but Philip. "Help!" John screams, but no one ever comes and he can never get there fast enough. He watches as the baby crashes to the ground, helpless, useless, distraught. "Philip!" The baby's crying. If he's crying he's not dead, not like Jemmy, and if John can just get to him-_

_He wakes with a start. The baby is still crying, wailing from the other room, and Eliza is grumpily getting out of bed._

_"I've got it," John says, before she can even find her slippers. "I- I can, Eliza, go back to sleep."_

_And, tired as she is, Eliza doesn't question it. Just sinks back into the cushions with a groan of deep relief._

_John pads down the hall, to the room where Philip sleeps. In the crib from IKEA they spent five hours arguing about how to assemble, the baby tosses and turns. "Hey." John reaches out a hand, pets the soft curls that are just starting to grow. "Shhhhh. It's okay, little guy."_

_Philip still doesn't feel like his son. Alex and Eliza wanted him, they handled the large share of the child rearing. John is their partner, but he still largely feels like Philip's awkward babysitter. What does he know about kids? What could be possibly do for him that Alex and Eliza can't? The baby is his (the freckles, the hair, it's indisputable that Philip is his son) but John still doesn't feel like a father._

_Philip gurgles, then reaches a hand up. "Alright." John hoists him up, trying to jiggle like Eliza had showed him. Philip makes a sound of displeasure._

_"Alright, alright, I don't know what I'm doing. How about a nice hug?" That seems acceptable, Philip slowly quietly and melting into John's embrace. It's probably four in the morning, and all sense is gone, so John keeps talking. "I don't have a clue what I’m doing, I'm sorry. You'll have to learn how to scream for your mother. Or your pops, how does that sound? Can you say 'pops'?"_

_Babies aren't supposed to talk yet anyway, John remembers that much from university. "I've read too many books, I have no idea what I'm doing. And I'm terrified." That makes so much sense that he says it again. "I'm terrified. I failed once at being a father and I ran back to America, and now I have to do it again. And I still have no. idea. what I'm doing."_

_It was so easy for Alex and Eliza. They wanted kids, had them, and found caring for them easy. Alex especially has a knack for it, going to all the parenting classes and putting all the moms there to shame with his Approved Baby Holds._

_John is just... John. "At least you have two parents," he murmured, tucking Philip back in. "They know what they're doing, and they love you so much. We all do."_

__

__After dinner that night, Eliza put on a movie for the kids. They had popcorn to throw at one another, Beauty and the Beast to watch, and Philip had instructions to call them the moment anyone needed something. Frances had not emerged from her room._ _

__“I don’t know what to do.” In the family room, John had his head in his hands. Eliza was on his left, Alexander on his right. “She hates me. She hates living here.”_ _

__“It’s a big adjustment.” Eliza’s hand was steady and warm where it rested on his shoulder. “Give her time.”_ _

__“She told me she’d rather be _dead_ than living here. What am I supposed to do with that?”_ _

__Alex sucked in a breath. “She’s dealing with a lot.”_ _

__"Should I find her someone to talk to?" John asked anxiously. Therapy had never done him any good, but that was what you were supposed to do with children when they told you they'd rather be dead._ _

__"It's a tantrum," Eliza advised. "She's trying to hurt you, probably because she's upset."_ _

__"And she has reason to be," Alex interjected sharply. "She's moved to a different country, without any friends, or teachers, or-"_ _

__"She had a cat," John said quietly. "A cat named Raul." He wondered what had happened to it. Probably the animal shelter._ _

__"What do you want to do?" Eliza prompted him gently._ _

__Unfortunately, he can’t see too many options. "What can I do? Figure it out. Hope she doesn't hate me too much by the end of things."_ _

__

_"Hey, can you come over?"_

_John frowns at the phone in his hand. Alex sounds worried, not sexy. Something definitely up. "Sure," he says evenly. "I'm leaving now. What's going on?"_

_"I don't know," It's almost a whine. "Eliza won't tell me. She's here and she wants you to come over too before we do anything."_

_John sighs as he heads off campus. If this is another sex thing... he's not in the mood to indulge that right now. Alex had been dating Eliza for almost a year, and that's all fine and good, but John isn't sure how he feels about this new direction their relationship has taken. Specifically, the fact that a few months ago Alex had had both his partners in bed with him. Together._

_A threesome wasn't such an unusual thing to do for your partner, John had reasoned. Especially a partner who's dating two people. He just isn't sure how to feel about his new relationship with Eliza. She texts him now, during the day. When he's in the caf with Alex, she'll pull up a chair and join them. John, who was under the impression that all of Alex's relationships were to be kept separate, can't help but feeling a little taken aback._

_No more threesomes, he decides as he climbs the stairs to Alex's ramshackle little apartment. He'll cut that right off. Alex can go back to dating both of them separately._

_Alex and Eliza are sitting on the couch, and something in the way Eliza's sitting has John screaming DANGER._

_"Hey," he says, trying to play calm. "What's up?"_

_Eliza turns to him. "John..." she can't say it. Her hands drop to her stomach._

_"You're-" John doesn't think he can say it either. Saying it would make it real._

_Alex lets out a strangled sound. "How long have you known?"_

_"Just a few days. I didn't know how to tell you, I-"_

_Both he and Alex had worn condoms. It doesn't matter._

_Eliza is pregnant, and John is terrified._

_"What... do you want to do?" he asks, because he's no longer the eighteen year old kid who went running to his father._

_"I don't know," Eliza admits. "I guess that's what I'm asking you." She looks at John, then Alex. "How serious is this?"_

_She means them. Eliza and Alex. She wants Alex to leave John for her, to run off and play happy family the way he never could-_

_But Eliza reaches a hand out to him too. "Alex, I love you. John, I don't know you as well, but I'd like to. If- if you wanted."_

_John can see the fear in her face. Eliza's scared too, scared of what this will mean for her. For them._

___Alex decides for them. "Eliza-" his voice is broken. He goes to his knees before her, one hand on her stomach. "John... John we're going to be fathers."_ __

____

____

_And John leans forward to place his hand over Alex's._

__

__It was with a heavy sigh that John headed down the hall to see his daughter. Only, when he pushed open the door her room was empty. “Frances?” he asked. His first thought is that she’s run away, climbed out the window and vanished into the night._ _

__“Whatcha doing, sweetie?” Alex’s voice came from down the hall, by the kid’s bathroom. And Frances’ voice answered him._ _

__“Don’t call me ‘sweetie’.”_ _

__John froze. Part of him wanted to interrupt, before Alex could say anything damaging. But it would be hard for anything to get worse. He ducked behind Frances’ door, listening._ _

__“You shouldn’t cover up your freckles,” Alex was saying casually, and John could just picture him leaning against the door - not in her space, but a presence nonetheless. Would Frances smile at him, talk to him, let him in?_ _

__“I hate my freckles.” Apparently not._ _

__“They’re your father’s freckles, you know.” He can hear the awkwardness there, can practically _see_ Alex rubbing a hand over the back of his neck._ _

__“I hate my father too.”_ _

__Silence. John closed his eyes, trying to push down the pain that shot through him. Of course she hated him. Why wouldn’t she? When had he ever given her a reason not to?_ _

__Alex’s voice was soft. “You know, you and your father have a lot in common.” A snort of derision was Frances’ only reply. “His dad left him in England too, you know. Left him when he was about your age. Right after his mom died."_ _

__Another silence, this one stretching. John closed his eyes, trying not to think of it - the loneliness of those first few months at boarding school, of losing his mom and being cut off from his family at the same time._ _

__How could he have been planning to send Frances to boarding school?_ _

__"John's mom died?" Frances ventured, voice quiet._ _

__"Yeah. Car crash, drunk driver. That's all he's ever told me. He's got a lot of pictures of her though, you should ask if you can see them. She is your grandmother."_ _

__"I don't want another grandmother. Or any more family."_ _

__"Well, that's too bad; you’ve got them. Most people aren't lucky enough to gain family, you know. Just lose them."_ _

__There was the sound of something slamming down onto the counter. One of Frances' makeup-things? Her voice was certain, hopeless. "He doesn't want me."_ _

__"Did he tell you that?" A pause, where John could only assume she was nodding. "Well, he's an idiot. He's wanted you since the moment you were born, he just didn't know how to tell you that. Just because his dad didn't raise _him_ right, he doesn't know how to do it right himself. Or didn't, anyway, until he met us. Now-"_ _

__John slipped away down the stairs, leaving them to their conversation. He had a lot to think about, and a lot more to plan._ _

__That evening, as he was making dinner, Frances appeared in the doorway. John gave her a friendly sort of smile, then turned his eyes back on the scallops he was pan-searing. “Is there anything I can do for you?”_ _

__“Your partner said you had pictures of my grandmother.” She shuffled her feet, then looked up at him defiantly. “I wanted to see.”_ _

__That made him smile in truth. “Yeah.” He moved the scallops off the heat. “We can do that.”_ _

__It was one of the oldest photo albums they had, black leather embosses with the dates that it covered. He’d brought it from his father’s house when he started university. Sitting on the couch, side by side, John showed her the photos._ _

__“She was a remarkable woman. Ran several charities, mostly helping marginalized kids - kids who need a little bit more help.” John’s fingers traced over the page, his mom’s frazzled hair and wide smile. “She died when I was twelve.”_ _

__“How?” Frances asked quietly. Her fingers brushed over the edges of the other page, a picture of his mom showing his sister how to ride a bike._ _

__“Drunk driver.” John flipped the page, to a picture of his mother and father posing outside of their home. “She was… it was over very fast.” She had been coming to pick him up from a martial arts lesson, that’s what he didn’t say. That it had been his fault, if he had not selfishly called for a ride because he didn't want to _walk_ home…_ _

__Frances broke his concentration. “Is that my grandfather?”_ _

__“Yes.” Henry Laurens, the longtime senator from South Carolina. Now retired, his primary occupation was golf and criticizing the government. “He lives in South Carolina, where I was born.”_ _

__“Has anyone ever shown you John’s punk phase?”_ _

__“ _Eliza_ ,” John groaned, throwing his head back. “Can we not? Please?”_ _

__“You shush, I was asking Frances. Well?” Eliza pulled an album from the stack. “Has your father shown you his secret shame?”_ _

__“I thought that was supposed to be me, ma’am,” Frances replied. John winced, but her voice was dry._ _

__“Nonsense. You are very wanted, Frances, by everyone here. Move over.” She shoved John aside, settling herself in between them. “Behold. Tongue piercing and all.”_ _

__John closed his eyes, groaning. “I’m not looking. I cannot believe you are showing my daughter pictures of me in university.”_ _

__“You have a _pierced eyebrow_ ,” Frances’ voice, normally so cultured, rose alarmingly. “And _eyeliner_!”_ _

__“Yes, yes. Teenage wildness aside-” he snatched the book from Eliza, “I didn’t look like that when I knew your mom, for the record.”_ _

__“I know.”_ _

__“Oh?”_ _

__“Mom has your yearbook, from school. The year you knew her. It’s got a picture of you, and you do _not_ look like _that_.” She stabbed a finger at the book._ _

__No, when he was eighteen he would have been wearing polo shirts and short hair, looking like an utter dweeb._ _

__“It was nice of her to keep that for you,” Eliza said._ _

__“She wanted me to know what my dad looked like.” Frances got up, busying herself by putting the albums away._ _

__Eliza flashed John a smile. It was the first time Frances had called him _dad_. _ _

__

_When the first emails from Martha come, John doesn't reply. He opens them, reads them, and promptly tries to forget everything in them. He doesn't want to see pictures of Frances, reminders of everything he's failed at._

_All of it, he's failed every single expectation that's been put before him. He's left his kid, dropped out of law school to become a nursing assistant, and stopped going to church. And he's gay, which is just the cherry on top._

_"Are we going out tonight?" He calls down the hall of his dorm room. Lafayette is out at some club meeting, but the rest of the floor is buzzing._

_"When are we not going out?" Someone shouts back, and there's laughter all around._

_He's got friends now, sort of. The kind of friends where the only expectation placed on him is if he can drink the other guy under the table. Which John is very good at, surprisingly. He even has a boyfriend, though Frank is more of a continuous hookup than someone he really goes on dates with._

_But he's been sleeping with Frank for a month, so it counts. They're practically dating. He could text Frank right now, and see if he wants to meet up and pregame before they go out tonight._

_"Can you not be so loud?" A dark head pokes in the room. Alex lives several rooms over, and has very little patience for a good time._

_"Yup. Why don't you come with us?" John entreats. "It'll be fun." He's seen Alex loosen up - on weekends, after term. It's a wondrous thing to behold, and John wouldn't mind getting to know him better. In more ways than one._

_"I have an essay to write," Alex says frostily. "And so do you, we're in the same statistics class."_

_He'll write it later. "It's not due for weeks."_

_"Two weeks," Alex correctly. "If you weren't so busy getting piercings, getting drunk. and playing music at three in the morning you'd know that!"_

_"Alright." John held up his hands. "Chill."_

_"Be responsible for something for once," Alex snaps, and shuts the door._

_The nerve of him. If he cared, John would wretch the door back open and tell Alex that he's tried the responsible thing. It didn't work. He'd disappointed them all anyway, so he might as well stop trying._

_Instead he pops open a can of beer he's definitely not allowed to have in his dorm room. Nothing wrong with getting started early._

__

__A thirteen year old needed very different things than an eight year old, John was quick to learn. Frances was both bright and inquisitive, which mostly resulted in her following him around the house to ask questions. She hadn't lost that sharp edge, not totally, but after the photo album incident things had calmed. Frances was wary, no more than John was himself, and they avoided talking about anything of substance._ _

__"How does a cell work?" Frances asked him one day as he was preparing lunch for everyone at home._ _

__“What part of a cell? The structure, the functions, the reproduction?” He dropped tomorrow’s lunches into the fridge, each in the correct bag. Frances, still waiting to finalize her place in the school, still stayed home with him._ _

__“How it works.”_ _

__John hesitated. "I have a book on it, if you'd like?"_ _

__"Sure." She watched from the kitchen table as John cleaned off his knife, set it aside, and fetched one of the books from his shelf. It was a little above her grade level, but he figured a challenge never hurt. "When I was your age, I wanted to be a veterinarian."_ _

__"You did?" She took the book tentatively, fingers brushing over the cover._ _

__"I did. But by the time I was making decisions for myself, I didn't have the required courses." _That's why you need to keep your options open_ , he might have said, but it wasn't true. His father had closed those doors for him years ago, padlocking the doors one by one in an attempt to force his son into an acceptable career. "I'm happy where I am though. I have a degree as a nursing assistant, and I get to stay with my family." _ _

__"Sure," Frances said, her face shuttering. "That's good, I guess."_ _

___I meant you too,_ he wanted to say. But before he could find the words she's hopped out of the chair and taken the book to the living room._ _

__That night he stopped by her room, intent on starting up the conversation again, only to find his daughter on her knees before the bed. "Frances?"_ _

__"...and look after poor Raul, please, ensure he finds a nice family that loves him..." Frances didn't acknowledge him until she'd finished her prayer. "In Jesus' name, amen."_ _

__"What are you praying for?" John asked, coming to sit on the bed. He pushed away the uncomfortable feeling in his chest when he saw his daughter praying - Alexander was a proud atheist, Eliza so lapsed she didn't even bother attending church on Easter. None of their children had professed any faith either, until now._ _

__"The same things I pray for every night," Frances said softly. "For Raul to have a good home, for God to watch over Mamma in heaven and tell her I miss her."_ _

__There wasn't a lot to say to that. John struggled, for a moment, until Frances broke the silence for him._ _

__"Do you remember my mom?"_ _

__"I do," John said, throat dry. "I didn't know her very well, but what I did know I liked. We had classes together at school. She was always very smart."_ _

__"She was." Frances nodded. Her eyes shone with unshed tears in the light._ _

__"And she loved you," John said. "She loved you very very much. More than anything, Frances." That, he knew. Martha had battled his father in order to keep their daughter, had battled against her family and the stigma of having a child at the age of eighteen. She had raised Frances alone, with only John's money to help her._ _

__"I know she did," Frances said. And it was so, so tempting to just leave it there. But John pushed forwards. "And we love you too, you know. Eliza and Alex have basically adopted you already, and Philip's so happy to have a big sister..."_ _

__"We?" Frances asked, eyes fixing on him._ _

__John cleared his throat. " _I_ love you, Frances. I mean, you are my daughter. I tried to do what I thought was best, even when that involved staying apart." It was a paltry answer, he knew, but Frances was young and had gone through enough pain. Someday, John thought, he'd tell her the whole thing. How young he had been, how scared, how ruled by his father. _ _

__"Do you want to pray with me?" Frances asked in a small voice._ _

__It had been years since he had prayed, but John shifted onto his knees anyway. "I would be honoured."_ _

__And he joined his voice to hers, asking God to please watch over Martha in heaven, and to console those left on earth as they came to terms with their loss._ _

__

_"And this is your room," Henry Laurens says, as they stop beside a small room paneled in dark wood. There's only one bed, pushed up in the corner. "I paid for a private room, of course, so you can have it all to yourself."_

_John isn't sure he wants a private room, but he nods along anyway and says thank you._

_"You've got all your things?"_

_John nods silently, still not trusting himself to speak. If he does, he's pretty sure he's going to start begging his father not to leave. It was cold in England, and it was hard to understand people when they spoke too fast, and everything he knew was thousands of miles away._

_"Good." Henry nods at the headmaster. "Call me immediately if you have any problems with him, you hear?"_

_"Yes, sir," the headmaster nods back, grave and severe. "I'm sure we'll have absolutely no trouble, isn't that right, John?"_

_He needed his voice. "Yes, sir," John echoes weakly._

_"Good! I will give you two a moment to say goodbye."_

_As soon as they were alone, Henry took charge. "You've got your books? Your money?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"You've got your aunt's phone number in London, if you need anything?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"And you have my phone number, in case there are problems?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Then this is goodbye." Henry did not lean down to hug his gangly fourteen year old son; he was far too dignified. "Work hard, make me proud."_

_He turns, starts walking away, and John can't hold it in any more. "Don't go!"_

_"Excuse me?" Henry turns, waiting._

_"I mean, sir," John hesitates. "Please, don't go. I don't want to be left alone." He'd be good, he'd be no trouble, Henry wouldn't even have to bother with him._

_"I have to," Henry said shortly. "Trust me, John, you will get far better care here. This is the top rated school in all of Europe, do you know that? It turns out nobel prize winners, champions of industry, laureates. Don't you want to do all that and make me proud?"_

_He did, except... "Yes, father," John said, because he knew no other answer would be accepted._

_He saw Henry soften, just for a moment. "It's better this way, John, trust me. This is the path to success."_

__

__"We need the cat, Alex." John wasn't going to budge on this. "We have to get the cat."_ _

__"We do not need another animal around here! The dog is bad enough! Give her a turtle."_ _

__John looked towards the terrarium, where Harriet Turtleman, Mary Shelly, and Marsha P Johnshell were swimming contentedly. "Those are my turtles. Besides, this is her cat. It's already hers."_ _

__Alex sighed. "It's probably rehomed already."_ _

__"Darling." Eliza took Alex's hand in hers, pressing a kiss to the palm. It worked; Alex melted. "We have five children and a dog. I'm sure one cat named- John, what's its name?"_ _

__"Raul," John supplied._ _

__"Goodness. She clearly gets the terrible name choices from you. Alex, one cat with a strange name is _not_ going to make or break this household."_ _

__John took his other hand, pressing a kiss to it as well. Alex's eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. "But cat hair!" he protested weakly. "My suits!"_ _

__John wrapped both arms around his lover's waist as Eliza looked him straight in the eye. "Look. There is a small child who is in our care, a small child who has just lost her mother and her entire world. If we can bring over one thing to help her feel at home, we will. Is that clear?"_ _

__John kissed his neck. Alex groaned. "Yes, Betsey."_ _

__"Good. John, take him up to bed. I have to go check on the children."_ _

__"Yes, Eliza."_ _

__

__Thus, when Christmas rolled around two months later, everything was a go. The children had ripped into their gifts with fervor, and Philip and Angie were racing around the house with a matching pair of nerf guns. Frances had been much shier as she unwrapped tickets to Phantom of the Opera, several pieces of clothing they'd noticed her eyeing in the shop window, and a new softball glove and bat._ _

__"We have one more gift for you," Eliza said, letting Alex wrap his hands around her waist. She was pregnant again, and John had placed his bets on a boy._ _

__"Oh? What is it?" Her accent had started to fade a little, but John knew from experience it would never be totally gone._ _

__"It's in your room," John told her. "Go on, we'll follow."_ _

__They all stepped carefully around Philip's new drum set (he was _not_ going to thank the Prevosts for that one) and followed her up the stairs, grinning as she heard a meow and sped up._ _

__There on the bed, a red bow wrapped around his neck, was the sleek grey tabby she had be given by her mother._ _

__"Raul!" Frances cried, immediately nuzzling her face into his fur. "How... how did you even-"_ _

__"It wasn't easy," John said. "There are a lot of finicky restrictions around shipping animals internationally, and it took over a month. And Alex says that if Raul gets one piece of hair on his work suits he's throwing the cat into the snowbank." Frances looked momentarily horrified, so John quickly corrected her. "That just means you need to save it for summer!"_ _

__"He won't be any trouble, I swear, he's a good cat-"_ _

__"I know." John rested his hand on her shoulder. It still felt a little strange, a little unfamiliar, but the feeling was fading. He suspected his daughter would always be a source of surprise to him, if only by virtue of being their eldest._ _

__But it didn’t mean he couldn’t surprise her back. "Come on,” John said, giving his daughter a grin. “I stashed two water guns under the sink; I think we need to let Philip and Angie know the war is on.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me at my tumblr at thellamaduo.com
> 
> comments and kudos are always loved


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